pecially the Pope,
to grant him those royal honours enjoyed by his father, but hitherto
obstinately denied to the moody drunkard whose presence in the paternal
palace had been occasionally revealed only by the rumour of some more
than ordinarily gross debauch, or the noise of some more than ordinarily
violent scene of blackguardly altercation.

Charles Edward, as I have already had occasion to remark, while
absolutely callous to the rights which self-sacrifice and heroism might
give others over him, was extremely alive to the rights which, as a
Stuart and as an obstinate and wilful man, he imagined himself to
possess over other folk; and, while it never occurred to him that there
might be something slightly ungentlemanly in a prince who had secretly
abjured the Catholic faith for political reasons continuing to live in a
house and on a pension granted him by the unsuspecting sovereign Pontiff
in consideration of his being a martyr for the glory of the Church, he
was fully persuaded of the cowardly meanness which prevented Clement
XIV., whose interest it was to jog on amicably with England, from
acknowledging the grandson of James II. as a legitimate King of Great
Britain and Ireland. It is therefore easy to conceive the accumulation
of disappointment and anger with which Charles Edward saw his hopes
deluded. He had, immediately on his return to Rome, officially announced
to Clement XIV. the arrival in the Eternal City of King Charles III. and
his Queen, and the Pope had condescended no answer save that he had
hitherto been unaware of the existence of such persons, and that he
would suffer none such to live under his jurisdiction. He had, for more
than a year, imposed upon his wife (despite Cardinal York's and her own
entreaties, if we may credit Sir Horace Mann) the title and etiquette of
a Queen, and had flaunted his scarlet liveries along the Corso day after
day, with no result save that of making the Roman nobles keep carefully
out of the way wherever he and his wife might go; nay, more, he had
replaced over the doorway of his residence the royal escutcheon of Great
Britain, only to return from the country one day and find that the
Pontifical police had taken it down during his absence. After this we
can understand, as I said, the disappointment and rage which must have
accumulated in his heart, and which, fifteen months after his wedding,
made him abandon the base town of the popes and seek sympathy and
dignity in t